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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29298519">Family</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToastyDehmer/pseuds/ToastyDehmer'>ToastyDehmer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Team Fortress 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>ASL, Dontneedavalentine2021, Gen, Selectively Mute Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:54:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,479</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29298519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToastyDehmer/pseuds/ToastyDehmer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson didn’t do so well in a match and Burtoge notices. He later goes to check on his nephew</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Scout &amp; Spy (Team Fortress 2)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>dontneedavalentine2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Family</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was late. Horribly so. But Burtoge wasn’t anxiously tapping his foot for that reason. Wasn’t because he was in RED territory. Wasn’t because he was all alone in a seldom used part of RED base hiding in the rafters with nothing but his knife on him. No, it was because the person who was supposed to meet him was late. Despite knowing there was no way for the rest of RED to treat Jack unwell, Burtoge still worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack...didn’t open up to people. Easily. He was a constant ball of nerves always fretting about something in the back of his head 24/7. On the battlefield, he was a shithead and a veritable force to be reckoned with. But being his Uncle, Burtoge was more than aware of what went on in the background. To the point he noticed Jack was off today. Really off. Normally he’d be spouting bullshit left and right with his bat in hand and grinning like a maniac. But today...he’d been silent. Sure he still cracked jokes and taunted and grinned but the never-ending talking simply wasn’t there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something to be said about the fact that Burtoge, the enemy Spy, noticed it before Jackson’s own teammates. Just what was the RED Spy doing!? Not his job - apparently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, there was something wrong with Jack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he caught his nephew before the end of humiliation round and told him ‘same place, same time’. Same place being this nearly-abandoned room and same time being half before midnight. It was half </span>
  <b>past</b>
  <span> midnight now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just where was he? The RED Spy should’ve been able to cover him long ago - just like Ulfgang had covered for Burtoge. Where?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just when he’d been about to get up and find Jack himself, the Scout walked in. Burtoge watched Jack quietly shut the door, the deadbolt clicking with a sense of finality. The Spy relaxed and slid off the the beam he’d been hiding on top of. He landed solidly - if with a bitten protest from his knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You...you should really stop doin’ that, Uncle Burt,'' Jack quietly murmured. He stepped away from the door, hands in the front pockets of his hoodie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Burtoge slowly stood up, hiding a wince.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably. Am I going to though? Not as long as I’ve got Ulfgang to heal me later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah well if you break your legs...I can’t exactly smuggle you back to the fence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, you’d just have to grab Pietro and his watch and we’d be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack huffed a laugh and Burtoge shot him a small smile as he dusted off his sweater and sweatpants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence wasn’t new between them. While it wasn’t as stilted as when they first re-met, it was still sometimes hard to break. Last Burtoge had seen Jack before running into him in Mann Co again he’d been fifteen. And when Burtoge was able to visit his sister again….Jack would've been seventeen when he….when he ‘died’. That was five years ago. And only last year did they meet again. But this silence was more like it had been then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was….stiff. Like the ice cold barrel of a gun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Burtoge’s smile fell into a frown just as small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jack,” he quietly spoke. He took a couple steps closer. “What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack tensing up was expected but the continuing silence was not. Burtoge carefully watched him, looking. He saw how Jack couldn’t keep eye contact. How his hands were fists in his pockets. How paler he was than usual. How his throat moved as if he was trying to talk...but couldn’t. Internally, the Spy sighed. Something was definitely wrong then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quick as a flash, Jack pulled his hands out of his pockets and signed two words, curled pointer fingers alternating with touching his cheeks a couple times. Just as quickly they were hidden from sight. Not quick enough to hide the shake in them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bad dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t much room to sit or relax, it was an old storage room after all. But Burtoge made do climbing on top of a crate and patted the space next to him. Jack met his eyes for a moment before looking away again, coming to sit next to Burtoge. The Scout slouched, elbows on his knees, head hung, eyes listlessly staring at the floor. Already he could see there was too much going on inside his nephew’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talk to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a few moments but eventually Jack brought his hands back out and spoke. Again curled pointer fingers touched his cheeks. After that he held his left hand, pointer finger out, and twirled the right around it once. And then with pointers and thumbs pressed together, the middle, ring, and pinkie open, he touched the pressed fingers together and broke them, bringing the open fingers around to touch in a circular movement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bad dream about family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mother and sisters?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack quietly brought the fingers of each hand together then touched the tips to the opposite ones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More- wait, Jack tapped a pointer finger while keeping the rest together. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One</span>
  </em>
  <span> more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother, sisters, and step-father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A fist with a tapping motion and a bob of his head. Yes. A nightmare about the family he couldn’t visit anymore. Hm. Well, there was an easy way for Burtoge to help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.” Burtoge settled more where he sat and looked up, thinking where to start. “Well, last I heard your mother was over the moon. Your little sisters have really begun to shine, turning out like you more and more. Little Rosie is learning piano, she’s already got chopsticks down but! Apparently your mother heard Rosie curse about her hands being too small! And your sister Bea is quite the reader with a taste for writing. She wrote this lovely little poem. I think she was trying to make a haiku. She was only one syllable off but she didn’t misspell a single word. Quite the achievement for an eight year old! Your step-father was so happy, your mother said he even shed a couple tears.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On and on it went. Information Burtoge got by way of Rowena’s letters, information he’d already told Jack about a week ago. But he’d do anything to help his nephew, even go over it all over again. And just like he thought, it helped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack chuckled here and there. He relaxed and let himself breathe easily, a fond light entering his eyes. Homesick but fond and happy. Sometimes he’d even toss in a comment, hands and fingers a whirlwind that to this day Burtoge occasionally struggled to keep up with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A weight had been bearing down on Burtoge since he noticed Jack not doing well in the beginning of the day and now it was pulling back. Burtoge let his smile turn genuine as he kept talking, filling the silence with hushed anecdotes and muffled giggles. But as with anything, all good things must come to an end and when Burtoge finished, both he and Jack had warm smiles on their faces. Burtoge leaned back against the wall, eyes closing for just a few brief moments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t expect to hear Jack breathe out, “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a problem kiddo,” Burtoge hummed. “I’ll bring the next letter by as soon as it comes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence again but Burtoge didn’t push it. Jack could barely get the one word out; Burtoge expected it to come again. And he knew if Jack wanted to tell him something while he wasn’t looking, he’d get his attention. But he broke it himself not too long after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you wanna stay until you feel comfortable speaking again?” The Spy opened his eyes and glanced over to see Jack chewing over the question. It took a few moments before he looked back over his shoulder and made another knocking motion with a closed fist, nodding his head at the same time. And then he brought the tips of his fingers to his lips and pulled his flattened hand away. Burtoge smiled and reached over, ruffling Jack’s hair much to his utter disapproval. A flustered Jack shoved his hand away with a small huff, dragging his fingers through his messy hair. Burtoge was sure it would be a vain attempt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a problem, kiddo.” It took a couple moments but Burtoge was soon comfortable enough to close his eyes again. He quickly peeped one open for a brief second. “Wake me when it’s time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack rolled his eyes, still smiling, and didn’t answer. Eyes closed again, he heard Jack shuffle and lean back against the wall. A calm sigh left his nephew. A grin flitted across his lips before he quickly fell asleep for however long it took for Jack’s anxiety to fully settle for the time being. Even if it meant until sunrise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anything. He’d do anything for his family.</span>
</p>
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